


smile

by doggo_fiends_on_a_spaceship



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: #GiveVirgilAHug2kForever, Anxiety Needs a Hug, Gen, Hugs, Movie Night, Nightmares, POV Changes, Pancakes, Patton hums a lot i'm sorry, Patton is like a really good big brother to Virgil, Patton is such a Good Dad, Platonic Cuddling, Prompt Fic, Sanders Sides Fic Exchange, and has Dad attributes, ending is a little abrupt oops, he just prefers "dad", i'm sorry i love patton but i'm terrible at writing him, self-deprecating thoughts, set pre-"accepting anxiety", slightly OOC behavior??, some of them are a little super blurred i'm sorry, tsficexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doggo_fiends_on_a_spaceship/pseuds/doggo_fiends_on_a_spaceship
Summary: The prompt, slightly paraphrased:Virgil has a nightmare and hides in Patton's room, not telling him he's there and scaring the shit out of him.





	smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@Ukeleledun21](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40Ukeleledun21).



> Alternatively titled: Virgil has a nightmare and wants a hug, but being emotionally constipated, Cannot Ask for one.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Current title is dumb, I know~~

 

 

_It was dark._

 

_Cold._

_Quiet.  
_  

 _Virgil tried to move, but he couldn’t move far. It was like the thick darkness had a physical_ weight, _holding him down and restraining him._

_He could feel the cool wooden floor beneath him. He could feel a sharp breeze, ruffling through his hair and stinging his cheeks._

_And it was dark._

_Not just dimly lit- it wasn’t blurry, vaguely-defined shapes and shadows swathing the corners of… whatever room he was in. It was pitch black, pure darkness._

_Virgil tried to stand, even though he knew it was futile._

_The whispers started._

**_They don’t need you,_** _something hissed in his ear. Virgil batted it away, hand moving through the thick darkness like it was a thick fog. He could_ feel _it, seeping into his clothing, into his skin, sinking into his bones._

 **_Thomas is better off without you,_ ** _something whispered._

_“I’m just trying to protect him,” Virgil protested. He was almost surprised he could find his voice, hoarse and scratchy as it was. Normally, the oppressive shadows stopped his throat from working at all, pressing in on his jugular and making him feel like he'd inhaled thick water._

_The whispers rose to cackles. **Need**_ **you?** _they taunted. **You, of all… things? No. Thomas does not**_ **need _you. You hold him back. You keep him from being happy._**

_“That’s… that’s not true,” Virgil said weakly. His voice was a rasp, but he still got the words out._

**_Of course it is!_ ** _the voices shouted. Now that they were no longer speaking in insidious whispers, Virgil could recognize them. Of course he could. It was his own voice._

_Thomas’s voice._

**_We’re_ all _better off without you!_**

**_And you’re better off alone,_ ** _another added._

_“That’s not…”_

**_Of course it is!_ ** _one of them shouted, but it was right in front of him this time. Virgil flinched back, and suddenly the light was blinding._

_It was like someone had flipped a switch._

_No- it was like the world was solidifying._

_The pressure of the shadows sharpened like it was coming into focus, and suddenly Virgil could feel the chains. Heavy and invisible, but there, holding him to the floor._

_Even the voices seemed to get more real- like before they had been whispers of smoke, and now they were thrown into sharp relief._

_Once Virgil’s eyes adjusted, he could see it wasn’t actually that bright. The room was still dim and vague, leaving much to the imagination- literally, apparently, because the thing that had just spoken was right in front of him, and it was Roman._

_Nightmare Roman, anyway. (Hopefully.)_

**_You’re_ Anxiety, ** _Nightmare Roman stated, lip curling. **A disorder, an affliction. A disease.**_

 **_He is right,_ ** _Nightmare Logan said, somewhere off to the right. **We build Thomas up. We create things, come up with ideas. You…**_

_“I protect him,” Virgil said desperately. “I stop Thomas from… from doing stupid things!”_

**_So does Logan,_ ** _Nightmare Roman pointed out. **Even I can do that.**_

_“No.. but…”_

**_We’re sorry, kiddo,_ ** _said someone behind him. Virgil’s eyes widened._

_Nigh… Patton was walking around to face him, looking saddened but still as cheerful as ever._

**_I’ll come visit you, though, don’t worry!_ ** _he said brightly._

_“Come… visit me?”_

**_We’re keeping you here, Anxiety._ ** _Logan said. He almost sounded apologetic._

_“What?” Anxiety breathed. “I… how?”_

**_All three of us is more than enough to defeat the foul beast,_ ** _Roman said, brandishing his sword melodramatically. **And with the help of Thomas, we were able to bind you here forever!**_

_Anxiety’s eyes widened._

**_Sorry, kiddo, we got to think of Thomas!_ **

**_I’m not sorry,_ ** _Roman muttered._

_The worst part was- they were all acting like themselves. Logan was being reasonable and stubborn, adjusting his glasses and whatnot, Roman was being grand and ridiculous and insulting him, Patton was as kindly and cheerful as ever._

_They were all themselves, except they wanted him gone. Forever._

_What if this was real? What if it wasn’t another nightmare?_

_It_ felt _real…_

_“I.. Thomas agreed to this?” Anxiety asked, quiet and upset._

**_Of course he did,_ ** _Roman sighed, rolling his eyes. **Did you never get the hint that we didn’t want you here?**_

_Of course he had. Anxiety wasn’t blind, deaf, or stupid. But he’d thought…_

_“You can’t just… get rid of me!”_

**_Watch us,_ ** _Roman bit out, and he stepped back._

_Patton sent one last apologetic look, leaving without even ruffling his hair or patting his shoulder._

_Logan left without even a look, apparently distracted by an article of some sort on his phone._

_Roman gave him one last look- almost pitying, but resolute- and he left, too, closing the door behind him and letting the room dissolve into darkness._

_The world seemed to get lighter, thinner, less real, like Anxiety was closer to non-existence. The temperature plummeted, the silence grew deafening._

_Was this real?_

_Was he real (anymore)?_

Virgil snapped awake.

He was in his room. It was cold, it was dim, but-

Virgil sat up. He could move. No chains or oppressing shadows.

It had been a nightmare.

Just a stupid nightmare.

They didn’t think that. They _didn’t._

He glanced around the room, drawing his knees close to his chest.

He always kept his room looking like Thomas’s living room- with a few of his own touches, of course. This meant that, because Thomas’s living room didn’t exactly have a bed, he just slept on the pullout couch.

But Thomas’s living room was one of the few places Virgil felt safe. Maybe not unjudged, or completely accepted, but… safe.

It was a place where nightmares certainly couldn’t reach him, and where no harm had ever come to him. Physically, anyway.

So he’d alter his room so it looked the same, like some cheap imitation- as if that could make him feel safer here.

And it wasn’t that he felt _unsafe_ here _,_ per se, just… each of the sides’ rooms boosted their emotions, their key trait- meaning that staying in his room always made Virgil anxious. He would overthink things more, worry about Thomas and the others, and generally overwhelm himself.

He usually distracted himself by getting on tumblr- usually to post about cryptids and disney theories and the like- or occasionally, watching a movie or something.

Virgil didn’t sleep as much as he should, mostly because of the nightmares. But it was getting worse lately, the stress of Thomas’s changing schedule and life getting to him.

He thought about rewatching Atlantis: the Lost Empire or The Black Caldron, but... right now, he was just _tired._ There was no way he could get back to sleep, he’d just have nightmares and end up lying awake anyway. And he wouldn’t be able to focus on a movie.

He sighed, flopping back on the bed and pulling the covers over him. Why did he have to have all these awful nightmares? He was _exhausted._ Virgil just wanted a good night’s sleep. He’d never really slept without-

Well. Wait a minute. That wasn’t entirely true.

There was- there was that one time. With Patton.

He’d been sitting next to Patton. It had been the first movie night he’d actually been invited to (by Patton, of course) and the night had been long.

At some point, once Roman had already fallen asleep (he snored) and Logan was paying rapt attention to the screen, they’d voted on which movie to start next. Logan ended up suggesting a horror movie. Something about “optimal experience” now that it was after dark.

And Virgil, of course, hates horror movies.

They frayed his nerves and set him on edge, because even though it was irrational and stupid and he _knew_ there was no murderous clown waiting behind the couch, he was _Anxiety._ It was his job to worry about these things. Hell, Virgil was the reason Thomas kept his closet door closed in case of shadow demons or homicidal clowns! Of course a horror movie would bother him.

But he hadn’t objected, because he was still spending time with them and he wasn’t being insulted or ignored.

But every time a jumpscare came on the screen, Virgil would flinch and curl in on himself a little. And about the fifth time that happened, Patton had cheerfully slung an arm around him and asked, “You doing alright there, kiddo?”

Virgil had frozen under the touch- unused to physical affection- and mumbled something about being fine. But he hadn’t pulled away.

And gradually, throughout the night, he slumped further and further into Patton’s side, hiding his face in the older trait’s cardigan when one of the more disturbing creatures in the movie dragged itself across the screen or gave an earsplitting screech.

Patton was warm and solid, and he made a surprisingly good pillow. And so, despite himself, Virgil had ended up drifting off to the muted sounds of muffled screams and Patton’s soft humming.

And with Patton’s arm securely wrapped around his shoulder, Virgil’s legs folded up and body curled into Patton’s embrace, Virgil fell deep asleep.

And when he’d eventually woken up, the sun peeking through the curtains and the TV turned off, he’d been startled to realize that… he felt rested. Well-rested.

It was near noon- Roman and Logan had wandered off somewhere else, and Patton was still next to him on the couch, fast asleep.

Virgil had let himself lie there for a while, still warm and secure in Patton’s arms. One of the older trait’s hands was resting gently on his skull, fingers gently twined through his hair, like Patton had been playing with it as he’d fallen asleep. It was soothing, actually, surprisingly comforting. Virgil didn’t often love being touched, mostly because it was usually startling and without his consent. But right now, he felt like a little kid curled up safely in… in a dad’s arms.

Not that he’d tell Patton that. He’d probably never shut up about it, and… well, the others would probably never stop teasing him about it either, and Virgil didn’t need that.

Virgil blushed at the thought, admitting to such feelings publicly, even if they were of the platonic type. He cared deeply for all of them, but it was Patton he trusted the most (even if not completely).

He finally slipped from the other trait’s arms, careful not to wake him. He felt the lack of heat immediately, but he shook it off.

He’d looked down at Patton, all rumpled and peaceful, and had sighed, grabbing a blanket from one of the chairs and laying it over him.

Virgil had never slept till midday before then. He’d never had the opportunity.

But that night, he’d slept without nightmares.

A soft thump startled Virgil from his thoughts and back to the present, and he realized he’d knocked a cat pillow off the bed.

Virgil looked around the dim room, sighing heavily.

He wasn’t going to be able to sleep, was he?

For a second- just a moment, nothing more- he actually considered going to Patton.

But immediately his self-deprecating thoughts retaliated- _And ask him what?_ Just the idea of stuttering through some pathetic, ridiculous plea for… for what? Affection? Touch? _Cuddling?_

And the worst part was, Patton would probably do it. If Virgil ever even got through a whole sentence asking for a hug, he would do it. Even if he didn’t really want to touch Virgil, even if he was uncomfortable, he’d do it, because that’s just who he was.

Not to mention it would be _embarrassing,_ and Virgil didn’t want to be that vulnerable in front of any of them. Even Patton.

Hell, _especially_ Patton. Virgil didn’t want to bother the older trait, or annoy him.

He dismissed the idea of going to Patton almost immediately. But there was no way to replicate the safe, warm feeling of his fath- _Patton’s_ arms around him.

Or was there?

Patton was with Roman having a Disney night, wasn’t he? Patton had invited Virgil, but Virgil had seen the irritated look on Roman’s face and immediately made excuses to go sit in his room.

But movie nights always lasted all night, usually ending in sleeping till noon. They’d all be occupied for quite some time.

Meaning Patton wouldn’t be in his room.

No one would be.

And…

Well, each of the sides’ rooms was… it was like being with them. Like _being_ them.

For example, in Logan’s room, Virgil always felt calmer, more distant from his emotions- not detached, but controlled. It got suffocating after a while- also, he tended to start sprouting a bunch of trivia when he was in there for too long. But it was good for calming down quickly or stepping back and analyzing a situation. (Although Virgil wasn’t invited there very often, so it hardly mattered, anyway.)

And in Patton’s room… He felt safe. Warm. Happier, even. Virgil only been in there once, and not for long- mostly because Patton didn’t stay in his room very often, preferring to socialize or play games in the commons.

He had no idea what adverse effects could possibly come from staying in Patton’s room for too long, but Virgil didn’t care.

It was like the idea had taken a grip on his thoughts, bright and hopeful and full of relief- Patton wasn’t going to be in his room. If Virgil went in, no one would see his vulnerability. But he would still feel safe enough to fall asleep, and hopefully a _dreamless_ sleep.

Virgil could sleep without nightmares. Without opening himself up to getting hurt. Just sleep.

His chest felt lighter than ever before as he threw the blankets aside, swinging his legs off the side of the pullout bed and standing. He felt a little shaky, but determined.

He slipped out of his room, peering down the hallway to make sure the others were still occupied. Upon seeing it was completely empty, he crept down the hallway towards Patton’s room.

Checking one last time that no one was watching, Virgil carefully opened the door and slipped inside.

Just entering the room made his shoulders relax a little- the whole room was like a hug, like the darkness couldn’t reach him there.

Gently closing the door behind him, Virgil idly wondered if he would start making dad jokes or misusing the word “adultery” if he stayed here too long. That wouldn’t be too bad.

Patton’s room was dark, unlit and mostly empty. Virgil opened the closet door, scooping up one of the spare blankets he knew would be there. It was soft- much softer than anything Virgil had.

Hesitantly, Virgil draped the blanket over his shoulders, closing the door and slumping against the wall. He sighed softly as he sank down further, back sliding against the wall until he plunked down on the floor next to the door. He was practically hunkered down in the corner, invisible from the doorway.

Even though this wasn’t the most comfortable he’d ever been, he felt safe.

Virgil wrapped the blanket a little tighter around himself, trying to relax. He could see the dark, blurry outline of Patton’s bed, full of cushy pillows and a fluffy duvet. He could see the vague, shadowy figures of a dresser, a small pile of stuffed animals, and other furnishings.

It was still dark.

Virgil shifted uncomfortably. Normally, the dark outlines of the furniture would have freaked him out, left him worried and scared. But in Patton’s room, he almost felt like there was _really_ nothing there.

Unfortunately, this didn’t stop him from feeling stiff. His back ached as he tried to slump further, hoping to curl into the soft blanket and get some rest.

Eventually he gave up, sighing as pulled himself to his feet. Virgil stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do next, then his eyes caught on the bed.

No. No, he couldn’t…

Virgil shuffled over to the bed. It looked soft and inviting.

The others would be in the commons for quite some time. Virgil would probably get away with it without any of them- especially Patton- ever knowing. If he was careful.

Virgil bit his lip, glancing at the door, then slowly pulled back the covers. He slipped off his shoes and socks then shrugged off his protective hoodie. He was left in just some soft grey sweatpants that he’d gone to sleep in- or tried to- and a t-shirt.

Tossing the hoodie over his shoes, he looked back at the door one last time (which was luckily still undisturbed) and crawled into the bed. He tugged the covers over him and curled up under the blankets.

It was like lying on a cloud, completely different from Virgil’s shitty pullout bed. It was clean and soft against his bare arms and wrapping around his body. He could almost feel like he was pressed against Patton’s side, safe in the other older trait’s arms.

Patton was like a dad (or actually, more like an older brother, but Patton preferred “dad”) to Virgil, especially as he felt safest with Patton. He was the only side that Virgil felt had never actually _hated_ him, or only tolerated him. The only one who didn’t really _judge_ him for who he was.

Patton had never forcefully tried to change him or make him go away, had never insulted him. He was pretty cool. He made funny jokes. He was a bright beacon of cheerfulness, positivity, and kindness.

By all means, Virgil should hate him. He was _Anxiety,_ the opposite of Patton in so many ways. But he didn’t. Patton was a comforting presence, someone Virgil really trusted.

Perhaps that’s why when he fell asleep in Patton’s room, surrounded by his scent and soft blankets, he slept deeply. He didn’t even wake when the door creaked open, or when someone entered the room.

He didn’t wake when the light flicked on, or when someone shrieked and knocked something off a shelf.

He didn’t even feel the gentle, barely-there brush of lips against his forehead.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Patton opened the door to his bedroom, humming to himself.

He flicked on the light, still humming softly. He turned, only to shriek in surprise and jerk so suddenly that he knocked a lamp over.

Startled, he looked over in disbelief at the dark figure curled up in his bed.  

Someone was _sleeping in his bed._

And who could it possibly be but Virgil? There were only four active sides, and the other two were in the living room. And it couldn’t exactly be Thomas, could it?

Patton quietly flicked the light off again, hoping he hadn’t woken the younger side up. But Virgil didn’t stir, apparently resting peacefully.

It was dim, but not so dark that Patton was blind. He slowly crept around the bed, dropping the stained shirt to the ground.

As he got around to the other side, he could see a soft black hoodie- _Virgil’s_ hoodie- piled on the floor, a pair of shoes poking out from under it.

Patton got closer to the bed, approaching the sleeping figure as quietly as he could.

He hadn’t expected this.

Patton had gone back to his room for a silly, innocuous reason. He’d spilled- or more accurately, _Roman_ had spilled- an entire mug of hot chocolate all over his shirt. So he’d come back to his room to change real quick.

And if hadn’t, the wouldn’t have seen this.

He mentally made a note to thank Roman later.

Virgil looked so _peaceful,_ face open and relaxed in a way he never was.

Patton couldn’t help but _aaw_ softly. Virgil looked absolutely adorable, snuggled up in the blankets and curled up like a cat, bare arm sticking out of the covers slightly to hug the pillow.

He stepped closer, wincing as the floorboard creaked underneath his foot. Virgil stirred slightly on the bed, mumbling something under his breath. His eyes flickered under his eyelids, like he was dreaming.

But it wasn’t a nightmare- his lips were quirked into a small, soft smile. He looked undisturbed, the rise-and-fall of his chest slow and even.

He looked heart-wrenchingly _young_ like this _._ Like the kid Patton couldn’t help but see him as sometimes.

But why was he here?

Why was he in Patton’s room, of all places?

Patton reached down and softly brushed some hair from his eyes. There were a few faint traces of smudged makeup under his eyes, but it was mostly gone by now.

He leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to Virgil’s forehead. His eyelids flickered a little more, like he was reacting to it.

Patton withdrew with a soft smile. He hoped Virgil was here because he knew that this was a safe place. He couldn’t be sure, of course, not without waking him up, but he could hope.

He backed away slowly, absently snagging a spare shirt from on top of the dresser.

Glancing back one last time at Virgil- yep, still fast asleep- he grabbed a sticky note pad and the bright green, glittery gel pen lying next to it, and wrote a little note. Once he was satisfied with it, he grinned and stuck it on Virgil’s hoodie.

Patton finally slipped from the room, careful not to disturb the sleeping side.

Pancakes. Yes, that would be a nice way to wake Virgil in the morning. And the others would surely appreciate it too.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Virgil woke slowly.

That in itself was unusual- usually, either nightmares woke him up, or one of the others knocking at his door (mostly Roman, who always knocked loudly and obnoxiously), or simply being summoned with no warning.

Virgil was used to waking suddenly, surrounded by slightly scratchy blankets and feeling just a little too cold.

But right now, he was surrounded by softness and warmth. His eyes felt heavy and sleepy- he rubbed at them, only to find some crust had gathered under them.

He blinked, rubbing it away. Even his limbs felt heavy and relaxed, his whole body lazily slumped against the mattress, like he’d melted in his sleep.

Virgil slowly pushed himself up on his elbows, letting out a long breath. He felt… relaxed. Well-rested.

It was an odd feeling, like his whole body was heavy and just waking up, and there was no insistent sleep tugging at the corners of his eyes, trying to force him back into darkness.

No terrible dreams to remember, to anxiously go over again and again and wonder if they would ever come true.

Just relaxation, sprawled out on a soft, warm bed…

Wait.

Wait, this wasn’t his bed.

This was- this was _Patton’s_ bed.

Virgil sat up quickly, glancing at the alarm clock on the side table.

 _Shit._ He’d slept in.

(He’d never slept in before. Wow. This morning was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?)

Luckily, it seemed no one had noticed. They were probably still asleep downstairs.

Reluctantly, Virgil pulled the covers off of him, wincing as the heat was pulled from him so quickly.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up.

He gave a decidedly catlike stretch of his muscles, letting out a soft breath. He pulled the sheets and blankets back into their proper place, straightening everything out and making sure it was the way it had been when he’d entered.

Hopefully, Patton would never know he’d been here.

Virgil shivered, suddenly realized he still wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

He turned, searching the floor for where he’d left his shoes and hoodie- and when he spotted it, his eyes widened.

There was a bright yellow sticky note smack-dab in the middle of the pile, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Virgil stepped closer, bending to pick up the note. His eyes scanned the words, eyes growing wider as he read it.

 **Hey, kiddo! If you’re reading this, come downstairs for some pancakes** **– I’m making breakfast! Hope you slept well <3**

There was a doodle of a smiley face and a heart, and then at the bottom corner, Patton’s name was signed with a flourish.

Virgil blinked, hand coming up to cover his mouth instinctively. What. The. _Fuck._

Patton _knew?_

Patton had- what, came into his room, saw Virgil being a- being a _fucking creep_ and sleeping in his bed, and had just… left a note? Made pancakes?

Vigil groaned under his breath, letting the note fall to the ground. Leave it to Patton to forgive someone for pulling a fucking _Goldilocks._

Of course, he was probably extremely uncomfortable with it, but he was _Patton._ A sweet, cheerful guy who was basically a human golden retriever. He wouldn’t say anything, would he?

Instead he was making _pancakes. Pancakes I don’t deserve,_ Vigil thought gloomily.

Wait.

Pancakes?

Those were Patton’s comfort food. Patton made those when someone was feeling sad or tired.

Shit. _Shit._

He was going to let Virgil down easy, wasn’t he?

Virgil groaned, sitting back down the bed _hard._ Shit. This was even worse.

Because Patton was going to sit him down, make him _comfort food,_ and try to find a way to tell Virgil _nicely_ that he was being weird and creepy and Patton didn’t want him entering his bedroom without permission.

And it was _stupid_ that the idea of Patton saying that- saying he didn’t want Virgil in his room, near his things- hurt, because… well, it was rational, wasn’t it?

Who would want _anyone_ just sleeping in their bed while they weren’t there? Especially for something dumb like nightmares…

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, blinking back a few hot tears. He didn’t have time for this.

He stood up again, scooping his hoodie from the floor and quickly putting it on, movements jerky and awkward as he hurried.

He hesitated, then picked up the note, staring at it for a moment. And then, finally, glancing over his shoulder like he was afraid someone would see, Virgil pocketed it.

He put on his shoes, straightened out the bed and pulled the spare blanket from it, carefully folding it and stowing it back in the closet. His hand lingered on it for one long second before he closed the closet door and walked back over to the door.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the knob.

Time to face the music.

(Oh, who was he kidding? Virgil was probably going to stand outside the door panicking over the possibilities for a good twenty minutes. At the _least._ )

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Patton hummed happily to himself, busying about the kitchen.

He’d heard footsteps in the room above- his room. They were quiet enough that he probably wouldn’t have noticed had he not been listening out for it, but as he _had,_ he had immediately rushed to the kitchen to get everything ready.

Apparently, he had quite a bit of time, because the footsteps stopped for a while before starting up again, like Virgil was pacing in the hallway.

Patton wasn’t worried. Not yet, anyway.

He’d already pulled out a pan and had the batter all mixed by the time Virgil final emerged from upstairs.

He was enveloped in his hoodie, shoulders hunched like he was embarrassed, hood pulled low.

“Hey, kiddo!” Patton said cheerfully, pouring some batter carefully and evenly into the pan.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil mumbled in reply, shuffling towards him.

“You sleep well?” Patton asked, his grin not dropping once.

Virgil glanced up at him, brow furrowed. “Fine,” he said shortly. He was still tense, like he expected Patton to start yelling at him.

When Patton didn’t say anything else, just giving him an encouraging look (Patton knew it was a long shot, hoping the younger side would open up to him, but he couldn’t help but hope anyway), Virgil took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I…” he began. “I’m sorry.”

Patton blinked. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “For what?”

Virgil flinched. “For being a fucking weirdo,” he said lowly.

“Language,” Patton said automatically, shifting the pan slightly as the pancake sizzled.

Virgil gave him a look. “Sorry for being a _frickin’_ freak, then. Happy?”

“No,” Patton said softly. “You’re not a freak, kiddo.”  

“I was… I was sleeping in your _bed,_ Patton. That’s _weird._ ” Virgil sounded frustrated, looking down at his feet.

“Why were you?” Patton asked curiously.

“What?” Virgil asked, giving a startled glance upwards.

Patton flipped a pancake. “Well, why were you in my room? I’m not mad, you know!”

“I know!” Virgil protested defensively, even though it was clear he didn’t.

Patton gave him a ~~Pattoned~~ Patented Dad Look™.

Virgil sighed. “I… I had a nightmare, okay?!”

His tone made it seem almost like he was confessing to something awful.

“…and I came to your room because I… it made me feel better,” Virgil admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t have any nightmares. I actually slept in.”

A part of Virgil was screaming _what are you doing?!_ Telling Patton everything, _admitting_ to being vulnerable? It couldn’t end well.

But this was _Patton._ He was- well, he was like a dad. Surely Virgil could… maybe he could tell him? Maybe Patton would get it?

He looked back up only to see Patton was _beaming_ at him. “That’s great, champ!”

Virgil blinked. _Champ?_

"You're always welcome in my room, kiddo," Patton said, voice dropping to something uncharacteristically serious. "Whether I'm there or not, 'kay?"

Virgil opened his mouth soundlessly, speechless. Patton was- he was... he was just going to let him...?

But then Patton was setting down the pancake pan and walking towards Virgil, arms held out for a hug. His grin was wide and cheerful, but he didn’t venture too close- waiting for permission. Which Virgil appreciated.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped automatically once Patton got too close.

Patton veered off without missing a beat, clasping his hands together under his chin, fingers interlocked and grin wide as ever. “Aw, alright!”

Virgil glanced behind him. “Uh. Your… your pancakes are burning.”

“Oh!” Patton yelped, turning around and rushing back to the stove, yanking the pot off the oven.

He looked down at the burnt mess in the pan, then up at Virgil. “That was the first one, too,” he said.

“Well, the first one is usually a mess-up, right?” Virgil said tentatively. “The second pancake’s always best. Or so I heard.”

Patton’s lips curled back into a smile. “You want the second pancake? I’ll make you the best damn second pancake you’ve ever tasted!”                         

Virgil resisted a laugh at his renewed enthusiasm.

“You know,” Patton said conversationally, “I was gonna make some pancake jokes.”

Virgil looked up, brow furrowed slightly.

“But they woulda fallen flat!” Patton laughed loudly.

Virgil snorted, stepping forward and sliding into one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

“How do you get a date with a pancake?” Patton asked, not missing a beat as he pointed the spatula at Virgil. Before the darker trait could even try to answer, Patton almost _yelled,_ “You butter him up!”

He kept going in rapid-fire, pouring the batter and readying the next pancake even as he kept going.

They seemed to make less and less sense as he went on, but they were still pretty funny, and Virgil found himself suppressing giggles. Patton was silly sometimes, but it was definitely a good thing.

_Why did the pancake become a baseball player? He was a good batter!_

_Which breakfast food never gets old? Peter Pancakes!_

_How does a pancake say goodbye? See you on the flip side!_

_What’s the best pancake topping? More pancakes!_

_Why aren’t you laughing- do you think my jokes are **crepe?**_

At some point, Virgil even fired back one of his own- much to Patton’s delight ( _Did you hear about the angry pancake? Yeah, he just flipped_ ) and soon enough, he found himself _smiling._

Not a very big smile, or a very obvious one. But there was definitely a positive quirk to his lips.

(Patton was even more delighted about this.)

This wouldn't last forever. Soon enough,it would probably be back to snide comments from Princey, to being pulled into videos and insulted, to being the antagonist of every story. 

But for now, he laughed at the stupid jokes and ate his pancakes. He couldn’t even bring himself to stop smiling when the other sides came in.

Roman just gave him a sideways look, but shrugged and got his own pancakes without comment.

Logan cocked an eyebrow, but there was a fond glint in his eyes.

Patton smiled at him, before getting distracted by Roman's challenge to flip a pancake in the air three times.

And Virgil…

Virgil could honestly say that… he was happy.

 

He wouldn't take Patton up on his offer right away. In fact, the next time he had a nightmare, he spent hours just staring at the door, wondering if he could do it, _daring_ himself to. 

But after days (days of quiet encouragement, silent reassurances and touches from Patton), _weeks,_ Virgil finally got the courage.

One night, he had a nightmare- and instead of huddling under the blankets and trying to ignore the numbing pain, he hesitantly slipped from his bed. And like a little kid sneaking to his parents’ room at night, he quietly slipped into Patton’s room, knocking softly on the doorframe.

A large part of him fully expected Patton to tell him to go away, or to simply roll over and ignore him.

But instead, Patton sleepily lifted the blankets for him, arms open.

And Virgil climbed into the bed, slumping into the older trait's arms and letting himself  _relax._ After what felt like an eternity of blissful warmth- the feeling of Patton's fingers playing with his hair and gently massaging his scalp, the feeling of Patton's strong arms encircling him- he drifted off into sleep, tucked against his big brother’s warm chest.

There were no nightmares, just warmth and safety and  _home._

 

But that would be weeks away.

So for now, Virgil would sit on his stool, munching his pancakes surrounded by his dysfunctional little family, and smile.

 

 

[a bonus gif to go with this](https://68.media.tumblr.com/10850845d92b275581080b528f7388c2/tumblr_olwltiLol91u6g96fo3_540.gif) - [(source)](https://zake-the-unknown.tumblr.com/post/157670190955/different-lil-gifs-from-anxiety-a-little)

**Author's Note:**

> for the Sanders Sides fic exchange- the word minimum/average was like, 1,000 words, but... it got out of hand. it kind of escalated into this fucking monster, but... hope you'll enjoy it anyway, @ukeleledun21!
> 
> ok also, so i know that this was a little all-over-the-place and Not Great at focusing completely on the prompt (or in general ha) but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway!  
>  ~~not to mention i feel like this whole thing got super OOC near the end and that nightmare was probably way too detailed, not to mention that patton?? keeps humming??~~  
>  idk it just seems in character, but oh well anyway  
> not to mention that the ending seems a little lazy and i'm not completely satisfied with it... but I didn’t want to go over my deadline, and i was a little stumped on how to continue it anyway. I might like, add an epilogue wherein that stuff actually happens if anyone wants that, but… *shrugs* idk
> 
>    
> so my tumblr is @doggo-fiends-on-a-spaceship if you wanna hit me up or scream at me or whatever


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